The Tombs - Cussler Clive (читать книги бесплатно полностью txt) 📗
The three stood about a foot apart and pushed the slab the other way with their shovels. The slab moved on its rollers, first closing the narrow opening they’d made, then going another few inches. A much wider opening appeared on the other side of the slab, and the dirt sifted in much faster than before.
“Let’s rest for a while,” Sam said. The others sat down while Sam spread the dirt around. The rate was much faster now, and when they were within four or five feet of the ceiling, the flow stopped. Sam pushed his shovel up into the opening and it broke through the last of the dirt above it. A shaft of sunlight shone through, illuminating particles of dust floating in the chamber.
They all took off their infrared goggles, blinking in the light. They listened but heard no sound of men above them. There were random chirps of birds, flitting from one row of grapevines to the next. Fresh air flooded in.
They gathered beneath the opening and worked to clear more room above that side so they could push the slab into the newly cleared space. When they rolled the slab back, there was enough of an opening to allow Remi to slip out. She climbed up, then called down, “It’s still early morning. I don’t see anyone. Pass me a shovel.”
Sam pushed the shovel up through the opening and she worked for a few minutes. “Okay, push the slab another few inches.”
Sam and Albrecht moved the slab again, and now there was enough room for them to slip through too.
“I can hardly believe this,” Albrecht said. “We’re out.”
They used the shovels to cover the iron slab, but they didn’t have enough dirt left aboveground to level it with the surrounding land. Sam looked around. “Hear that?”
“A car,” said Remi. They all ducked low in the depression. Remi raised her head and peered out. “Wait. It’s Tibor’s car.”
The car sped up and stopped and then Tibor got out. “Why didn’t you call?” he asked. “Didn’t you find it?”
“We’ll explain later. Just get us out of here,” said Sam. “And not toward Szeged.”
They all climbed in and Tibor drove off. “I’ll go the other way, toward Budapest.”
“Perfect,” said Sam. “We need to figure out what that message meant. We’ve got a head start. When those men dig their way into the chamber, they’ll be expecting to find a tomb, just as we did.”
“It wasn’t a tomb?” Tibor said.
“It’s more than that,” Albrecht said. “Much, much more. How far is it to Budapest?”
“About fifty miles. Maybe an hour, if I push it.”
“Then push it,” Sam said. “We’ll try to fill you in on the way.”
THE ROAD TO BUDAPEST, HUNGARY
TIBOR DROVE FAR ABOVE THE SPEED LIMIT, BUT IT WAS early in the morning and they saw few other cars. Albrecht sat in the passenger seat beside him and the Fargos were in the back.
Sam said, “Remi and I plan to go after the five treasures. How do you feel about joining us?”
“This is my life’s work,” Albrecht said. “Of course I’m in.”
“Five?” said Tibor. “Five treasures? I’m in five times.”
“But how do we want to proceed?” asked Albrecht.
Sam said, “I’ve given it a little thought. First, we need to decipher the message that Attila left us and be sure we understand it.”
“Fortunately, it’s only Latin.” Albrecht took the newspaper Tibor had left on the seat, then used his pen to write out his translation. “‘You have found my secret but have not begun to learn it. Know that treasures are buried in sadness, never in joy. I did not bury treasure once. I buried it five times. To find the last, you must reach the first. The fifth is the place where the world was lost.’ In this section he tells us where the most recent treasure is.”
“Where can that be?” asked Remi. “When was the world lost?”
“There are a couple of good candidates for that description,” Albrecht said. “Remember that, to Attila, the world meant the land between the Ural Mountains and the Atlantic.”
“Let’s call Selma,” Remi said. “Maybe she and Pete and Wendy can help us sort this out.” She pressed a key on her cell phone. There was a ringing sound and then Selma’s voice on the speaker.
“Hi, Remi.”
“Hi, Selma. You’re being included in a very important discussion. Did you get the Latin inscription I e-mailed you?”
“Yes,” said Selma. “It was like a puzzle—or maybe just the beginning of one. Are you going after it?”
“Yes,” said Sam. “First, we need to know where ‘the world was lost.’ Albrecht was just saying there are a couple of candidates. Go on, Albrecht.”
“Well, certainly if Albrecht—”
Albrecht interrupted. “We called because we want you to verify the facts, and, in the end, we’ll want your opinion too. Our command of history and its principles will give us an advantage. But Mr. Bako has done a decades-long obsessive study of Attila’s life. He’s probably got an incredible command of the details. Buffs and fanatics can be powerful opponents in a contest of trivia.”
“You said you saw two possible meanings for when the world was lost,” Remi said. “What are they?”
“One would be the battle Attila fought at Chalons-en-Champagne, France, in the year 451. The Huns had advanced to the west through Germany and most of France, pillaging and destroying cities. The Romans, under Flavius Aetius, along with a larger contingent of allies, raced to cut off the Huns’ advance. They met on the plain at Chalons. Both sides lost many men, but there was no conclusive winner. This was the farthest west that Attila ever got. If he had won a clear victory, he would have gone on and taken Paris, and then possibly the rest of France. He would have ruled most of the area from the Urals to the ocean.”
“What’s the other candidate?” asked Selma.
“It’s a bit more complicated story,” Albrecht said. “It began a year earlier, in 450. Honoria, the sister of the Roman Emperor Valentinian III, was in exile, living in Constantinople, the eastern Roman capital, because at the age of sixteen she was pregnant by a servant. Now she was about to be married off to a Roman Senator she didn’t like. Her solution was to write a letter to Attila the Hun, asking him to rescue her. Attila definitely interpreted the letter as a marriage proposal. He believed she would bring him a dowry consisting of half the Roman Empire.”
“Was that really what she had in mind?” Remi asked.
“It hardly mattered, because her brother Valentinian wasn’t going to let it happen. He hustled Honoria back to the Western Empire, to Ravenna, Italy, where he had his court.”
“Attila wouldn’t have put up with that,” said Tibor.
“He didn’t,” Albrecht said. “In 452, after his disappointment in France, Attila and his men went south and east into northern Italy. They took Padua, Milan, and many other cities. Attila, at the head of his huge army, moved south toward Ravenna, forcing Valentinian and his court to flee back to Rome.”
“And Attila followed?”
“Yes. Until a delegation met him south of Lake Garda, near Mantua. The delegation included noble Romans, led by Pope Leo I. They begged for mercy, asking him to spare Rome. History says he turned around and left for Hungary.”
“That’s all?”
“I said it was complicated. He had taken northern Italy almost unopposed. He wasn’t a Christian and wouldn’t have been interested in the Pope’s request. Italy was at his feet. They had no army comparable to his. I think that his great army made the conquest of Rome impossible. The country was in the middle of a terrible famine. There was also an epidemic. The descriptions indicate it was probably malaria. If Attila pushed on for Rome, there would be no food to feed his huge army, and many would die from illness. So he left, planning to return another day.”
